


infinity

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Infinity War (Marvel Comics), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), alternate POV, i dont wanna go, im really sorry, infinity war rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-29 04:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15065096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: there was an idea - to bring together a group of remarkable people - to see if we could become something more - so when they needed us, we could fight the battles - that they never could.





	1. there was an idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "i assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again"

"I, Loki, Prince of Asgard," Loki took a glance towards his brother with a bitter frown, "...Odinson. The rightful king of Jotunheim, God of Mischief..."

_A long time ago, there was a man and his brother._

"...do hereby pledge to you my... _undying_ fidelity," Loki said, pointedly avoiding his eye contact as he kneeled down in front of a man that had just slaughtered their entire ship... all of their people. There was an empty glance towards Thor and a quiet whisper inside his mind that no longer seemed to be important. He hadn't noticed. There were only heart-aching silence and a ringing in his ears that wouldn't go away. It kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing, loud and unending and hiding behind an echo of a single thought:  _why._

Why did he choose this path? Why did he always wish to be on the side of evil? Why did he wish to torment his brother so much?

_Why had Thor put so much faith in someone who had repeatedly shown him not to?_

He didn't know. There was no answer, no reply. Just the ringing... the ringing... the echo of a thought that would never be answered.

_The older brother, brave and strong and skilled at everything he tried, loved his younger brother dearly. He loved him like no other and believed the world was in the palm of his hands and that no matter what... he would always make the right choice when it came to it._

There was no light on the remainders of this ship besides the afterglow of stars hundreds of lightyears away and the stones shining from Thanos' gauntlet. They weren't created to be weapons, to be stolen only to kill and injure and leave behind nothing but destruction. And yet here they were, resting in a case a murderer held. He tried not to think about what pain the universe will feel.

Ringing... and ringing... and ringing...

_The youngest brother, full of mischief and jealousy and stuck under a shadow he couldn't get out of, only wished to be his brothers equal. His brother was one of the few people dear to him and he was stuck in his shadow, but he would still do anything for his older brother and would follow him... even to death._

From underneath the metal cage Thor was stuck in, he shut his eyes tightly and opened them again to blink away the spots in his vision. He wished to cover his ears, to get rid of the ringing, to end the scene in front of him, but he was stuck just as he had been before. Helpless, hopeless, unable to do anything. Just to think and listen to the ringing and the echo and the voice of a man who murdered millions and the brother Thor had believed was on his side.

In tough times such as now, he wasn't sure if he could be as optimistic as usual. 

_Though they both grew so close together, there was a mighty difference between the two. Growing up beneath the older brother's shadow, the younger sibling vowed to one day be shown as his equal, no matter the cost. The older brother wasn't prepared for what the cost was, but he was heartbroken how far his brother had gone just to be seen as equal._

But then a second went by and Loki glanced at his brother again, a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before. A knife slid down from his sleeve and into the palm of his hand away from prying eyes. Thor knew better to react but there was a force screaming at him to shout, to yell, to say, "Don't do this, it won't end well."

There was no voice, there was no sound. Just the ringing, ringing, ringing. The echo of a cry for help that nobody heard.

And he was right, it didn't end well. Thanos had predicted this move. Loki jumped up, knife in hand, aiming for his neck. But there was a flash, a burst of blue light, and he stood frozen, knife falling to the ground. He had Loki by his neck while he grasped at straws. The choked gasps his brother made would haunt Thor for the rest of his life. It would haunt him like a ghost, following him until the day he died and some more. 

It was a horrible fate to be stuck only to sit and watch your only remaining family be murdered in front of you. 

"'Undying'?" Thanos said, tilting his head to the side, his voice in a mocking tone that sent shivers down Thor's spine. "You should choose your words more carefully."

_Times had moved on and through pain and death and shattered dreams, the brothers found themselves again. For a moment, for a single moment in time, they were brothers again, alive and well. Together, at last, they had found each other again._

Between the sunken red eyes and the gasping for air, Thor noticed the difficulty it took for his brother to manage a struggled smile. He gasped for air before speaking, his voice hoarse. "You... will never... be a god..."

A final breath. A single exhale. A gasp as closure and thus there was no more life in the Prince of Asgard. 

His final moments echoed in Thor's mind. A struggled gasp, a final breath and the sagging of his shoulders. It repeated. Repeated. Repeated. Over and over again as if it was a broken record glued to the record player. 

_But times were short and happiness and peace don't ever truly last. It wasn't before long when the younger brother looked death in the eyes and turned to his brother, a promise sitting on the tip of his tongue._

_"I assure you, brother. The sun will shine on us again."_

It was a quiet whisper, a false statement, a bitter lie. It was a broken promise that hangs in the air and echoed through his ears.

Loki fell and Thor was released. The Black Order left as quickly as they came. Without a second thought or a single breath, Thor rushed over to his brother, looking at his face again, hoping, hoping for a single sign of life. A breath. A beat. A pulse, a blink of an eye. 

There were none. 

So he cried. 

A quiet sob and a one-way hug, for there was nobody left to return it. 

Broken gasps and breathless words, a cry for help. Nobody answered. 

Thor had just then realized that he lied. He had lied. For the sun had set and there was nobody here for its light to shine on. It was a broken promise, a bitter lie. A single, quiet whisper that echoed in his ears and would not simply go away. 

With that final, broken promise hanging in the air for him to swear upon, a bright color erupted around them and the remainder of the ship faded. All that was left was a single man surrounded by the bodies of his people. The single, remaining survivor. There was a surge of power and all that was left began to disintegrate. He tightened his hold on his brother, knowing for sure this time there would be no second chances. 

_And thus ended the story of the two brothers- for only one remained._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nobody had guessed that a war would have started and they weren't prepared - they might never be.


	2. to bring together a group of remarkable people

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "no, this isn't love"

"A soul for a soul." 

_She didn't remember what her home planet looked like._

A beat. A moment of silence. A second of peace. Looking up at the man who killed her people, she didn't know what to say but she knew she had to say it. 

_It was a long time ago. When she was taken away from her home._

"All my life, I dreamed of a day, a moment...when you got what you deserved," Gamora said with a wavering voice but she stood her ground and there shown no cowardice in her eyes. Instead, there was a light so fierce it blinded the stars around her and anyone in her way. "I was always so disappointed. But now... you torture and kill and you call it mercy." 

_But she remembered the pain. The emotions she felt when she realized she was never to see her home, her people, her family ever again._

When her eyes fell on the ground she looked up once more, eyebrows furrowing yet not even a frown spread on her lips. 

_She remembered the screams as Thanos' men murdered everyone left on her home planet. But that was all. That was all she remembered._

The wind was harsh against her skin. The light was beginning to fade in the sky. The whispers in her ear were quiet and light, a feathers touch. It was the universe telling her to stop but all she did was stare it in the eye and dig her heels into the ground as she whispered back -  _no._

_She had been taken and destroyed and forged into a weapon she didn't wish to be._

"The Universe has judged you. You asked it for a prize and it told you  _no._  You failed. And you wanna know why?" She asked, turning around in her spot and walking to face Thanos. His eyes had been lowered to the ground and there was no movement to look up or acknowledge her. 

But that was the thing. Gamora wasn't speaking for him. She wasn't fighting for him. She wasn't doing anything for him. All that she has done has been for herself and her friends - her family. Her _real_ family. The Guardians, Nebula. Her mother and the people that were slaughtered _mercilessly._ This had all been done for them - never for Thanos.

He didn't need to acknowledge her. He didn't need to speak. This was for _her._  

_And so she got away, she found a family of space pirates and they called themselves a family. She would be honored to die by their side._

Her voice lowered to a whisper, a smile on her face that she had longed to feel. "Because you love nothing. No one." 

She believed - she had _truly_ believed - that this was the end for Thanos' reign. 

And then there was a tear. A single tear that fell from his eye and onto his cheek before he blinked it away in a moments notice. There wasn't anything to believe about it, nothing she had to think on. It was for him, wasn't it? Because he had failed. 

"Really? Tears?" 

_There were wars, she knew that. There were times where two sides battled against all odds. But she always thought she would get away from them before she got caught up in the mess._

"They aren't for him." 

A beat. A moment of silence. A second of peace. Looking down on the girl he called his daughter, he watched her face fall and every previous thought die. 

_She didn't really remember what her home planet looked like._

"No," Gamora said, taking a hasty step back. "This isn't love!"

Thanos held her arm tight and moved towards the ledge, no sense of remorse in his eyes and no light of regret on his face. She struggled against his grip, fear dropping into her stomach like a ticking time bomb. It was ticking, ticking, ticking and ticking as she was pushed closer and closer to the edge. 

_She didn't remember what her home planet looked like, no, but she remembered what home looked like._

"I ignored my destiny once. I cannot do that again. Even..." he stopped, for a moment. For a single moment, he stopped and looked at her. She didn't look back. "...for you. I'm sorry, little one."

And she fell. 

_She remembered the silver walls of her ship and the contents of her cabinets. She remembered each of their faces and where her family sat on a long space ride._

As she fell, there was less fear than there was a sense of failure. Less panic and more of a sunken, hollowed feeling. 

_She remembered each of their faces and the smiles they shared in seconds of peace and days of silence._

There was a time where Gamora thought she would die surrounded by friends - by family. The Guardians. She truly wished that were the case. Especially now, as she closed her eyes and let the tears fall and forgot about the impending pain that she was sure to feel in only a matter of seconds. It was a distraction, the thought of her family. Distract her from the pain. Distract her from her failure. Distract her from the betrayal - even if it wasn't unexpected. 

_And in her final moments, she wished to remember them and the home they shared. The home they made from nothing._

Gamora had wished to die beside her family rather than her enemies. Instead, she was pushed off a cliff and had died alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as she fell she thought to herself, to her friends, to quill, and said, "this is not your fault"


	3. to see if we could become something more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "we're in the endgame now"

The fight had gone on for longer than Tony expected but he had been winning. The nanites were effective, but he noticed how he was losing them quickly, still, he had been winning. 

And then before long, all he felt was the cold metal of his own knife in his chest. 

All he could do was gasp, a soundless scream unfurling from the back of his throat. There was no air in his lungs and no feeling in his body, save for the white-hot pain creeping from the open wound from his chest. The blood seeped into his clothes and dyed them red, the metallic scent wavering in the air to mingle with the red dust of the planet. 

How ironic, to be stabbed by the weapon he created. The weapon he created to beat Thanos' own sorry ass, the weapon he created for him, the weapon he created to protect everyone he loves was inside his chest by the hands of his enemy. 

Backing him into metal and leaning down as he watched Tony fall, Thanos spoke with his voice downed out to barely a whisper.

"You have my respect, Stark. When I'm done, half of humanity will still be alive." He backed up, his fist in the air. "I hope they remember you." 

Blood came spilling out of his mouth as he choked, struggling for air. Tony's lungs were tight and empty and his chest was screaming out in white-hot pain. This was his body telling him to stop, to close his eyes, to fall silent and fall still.

So maybe he was ready to die. 

There was a ringing in his ears that was loud, obnoxious, censoring parts of his hearing. He heard people speaking, he heard rubble fall, he heard himself gasp but there was no recognition in his mind that there was anything. 

"-give you the stone." 

Surrender. Wave the white flag.

_Lose._

Tony looked over at Strange in a daze, the scene before him dizzy and blurry and tilting on its own accord. The orange colors of the planet were blurring in with the only subtle colors of his team, his partners. Everything turned to two, each person having a double and a hazy picture. An illusionary hallucination played out in his mind. It was a creation of the pain, of whatever the hell he was going through.

More words. They all blurred together, their sounds lost in the ringing, ringing, ringing in his ears. Thanos let go of Tony and ripped the knife out of his chest. He gasped, clutching at his chest and sewing it shut with the new technology he had created. He sunk to his knees, swaying on the spot and eyes wishing to close. His mind thought it best to lure him to sleep, to let Tony slip into blissful unconsciousness. But instead, he opened them again and looked around.

A bright green light slipping into blur together with the other stones. Purple, blue, red, orange, green. All blurring into one single color coming from the Infinity Gauntlet, only one recognition on the fact that they had failed. They failed to protect the stone. They failed to stop Thanos. They failed to keep the people safe.

Tony failed in keeping the people _he_ loves safe.

"One to go." A sickening reminder leaving Thanos' mouth before Tony had to close his eyes and will the pain away. 

So maybe he was ready to die.

There was a shout from behind him and Tony blearily looked up to see lights hitting Thanos square in the chest repeatedly with no effect. They continued, even as he disappeared into a mess of blurry blue smoke. Tony watched as Quill fell into the ground, quickly crawling up onto his feet and retracting his helmet. 

"Where is he!" He yelled, looking around wildly at them as the truth struck him hard. 

Instead of answering, instead of facing the fact that maybe Tony did mess up. That he definitely messed up. Instead, Tony used the last of his nanites to seal the wound his knife had caused after Thanos ripped it out of his chest. 

"Did we just lose?" 

And the guilt weighed heavily in his chest, dragging him underneath the water and drowning him, suffocating him, keeping him deathly quiet and sickly still. 

But he recognized now was not the time to drown, now was not the time to suffocate, now was not the time to die. So Tony looked up and turned his head, the guilt written in his eyes and burned into his expression, and he looked at Strange. 

"Why would you do that?" 

But he only stared, for a moment. For a second. For a minute too long. The silence was stretching, and stretching, and eating Tony alive. He needed an answer. He needed confirmation. _Why_ had he done that? _Why_ had he sacrificed the stone? _Why_ had Strange given up their only hope in keeping the universe safe? 

 _Why_ did he save Tony, even if he was willing to die?

But Strange didn't give an answer. He didn't use his magic to read Tony's mind and tell him like it is. Instead, the doctor looked Tony in the eye and said the words Tony remembered saying oh so long ago. 

"We're in the endgame now."

So maybe they were. Maybe they were, maybe they could get passed this. Maybe they could win. 

So maybe he wasn't ready to die. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there had been 14,000,605 possible scenarios and only one where they won. he was beginning to believe this wasn't it.


	4. so when the world needed us we could fight the battles

"I told you... you would die, for that." 

There were spots, dancing in his vision and pain, ebbing its way across his chest. There was a white light blurring in his mind and an echoless ring scorching his ears. The numbing noise curling into his system and staying put, a rock that took more than a simple push to move. 

"You..." He tried to say, the spots taking over more than his vision. It was senseless, how he told himself he couldn't speak because of the dots. They were limiting, and, yet, he still continued and tried to give out a few words, to give out his last will. A testament, only a half of an entire whole.

"You should have gone for the head."

He snapped. 

There was a white light. And it settled to orange. Hues, dancing across the sky and all up underneath into the ground. The water beneath him, a solid ground yet also fragile. The air, a tasteless sense of what he might have needed, might not have. 

He lowered his hand, the burning pain still lingering, sending stings up and down his arm. He felt it in his hand the most, his fingers tingling with a hot-cold sensation he doesn't think he had ever felt before.

When he looked up, he saw someone familiar.

There was a girl in front of him, only a few steps away, the only other thing in the endless orange world he now found himself in. He took a few steps, eyes fixated on the small girl ahead of him. He only stared, unable to find any words. She was familiar, someone he had lost only just recently, and by his own hand, too. 

"Daughter...?" 

She turned around. It was her, Gamora, in the flesh. Just as a child, when he had first met her. Eyes unwavering, courage is written on her face yet there is fear painted over her stance. She looked up at him, eyes not quite as innocent as she had been when he first took her. No, this was a different Gamora. Her identity matched more of how she had been only hours before when she was alive, when she was well. 

"Did you do it?" She asked.

He couldn't quite look her in the eyes.

"Yes." 

His gaze shifted toward the ground, just a simple reflection of the orange sky. He hadn't been able to tell if she was going to cry or laugh, her mouth twitching upward. Except, in her case, it had been a smile, because she felt he deserved the pain he has now, the pain he is going to get. So she asked her final question, ending their meeting with a smile and a nod, if only satisfied for the time remaining. 

"What did it cost?" 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything.


	5. that they never could

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "mr. stark i don't feel so good"

They began to fade before anyone could say anything more than a few words. 

Mantis was the first to say something - as she was also the first to go. With her wavering voice and eyes that looked into the stars up above, she said, "Something's happening." 

Something  _was_  happening. Dust. It flowed through the wind. Ash. It smelled so much of ash. He couldn't tell why until she was gone and that's all that was left behind. Ashes.

It was a countdown. Who was next? Who was next to die, to fade, to turn to dust and fly through the wind without a second thought as to why,  _why_  they had died? 

_Six left..._

And then Drax was to go, his eyes moving towards Quill as he said his name. There was a hesitated step just as he started to fade away, too, and then he was gone. Peter was too shocked to say anything, too terrified to take another step. He swallowed, giving a shaky glance towards Tony and making sure, making sure that without any doubt, he was safe. People were dying, people were disappearing in seconds and their existence simply moving through the wind like it was nothing. 

_Five._

He only hoped that no one was next, that nobody else would disappear, that nobody else would die in front of him because that is what's really happening, isn't it?

Peter just hopped Ned was safe. That May was sitting at home perfectly fine. That Tony won't be next, either. 

He asked himself a question in his head, one that he hadn't wanted to think. It was spreading like a virus, making him anxious, restless, unable to sit still. He asked himself a question that whispered through his mind and silenced every other thought in fear of learning that maybe, just maybe, it's true.

_Am I next?_

"Oh man." And then Quill was gone, gone with the wind. The Guardians had all fallen. There were four people left. Peter still hadn't said anything. He only stood there in silence, watching with surprise as person after person disappeared and faded and died. A second went by and maybe that was the end of it. Maybe they could go home. Maybe they would stop fading, stop dying, stop losing another person that they really needed to finish this war. Maybe this was it and the anxiety in his chest would fall still and he would be safe. Let everyone he loves to be safe, _please._

_Four..._

Another second passed and someone spoke up with pain in their voice. With fear rising above any other emotion. With regret and listlessness and a sad ring that echoed through his head.

"Tony," Strange said, looking over his way. Peter looked away and he immediately knew what was next despite him thinking,  _please don't make it three._  

Yet, no matter how much Peter wished for it to be so, the universe always had to prove him wrong. He closed his eyes tight, clenching and unclenching his fist. He knew this wasn't going to end well. They lost. They _lost_ and it's all his fault.

The doctor spoke and Peter really wished he hadn't said a word, no matter how selfish that thought was. "It was the only way."

Maybe he was right, maybe he wasn't. Peter didn't have a right to give his opinion on the matter because he wasn't the one who knew the single timeline they won. Peter didn't even know why any of this had to happen in the first place, but he'd be damn sure he'd fight for the people that need his help, aliens or not. 

And then Strange turned to ash and only the three of them remained in the sickly orange planet.

There was a scent in the air that stained every breath he took and blurred his vision into still forms as it slowly blew through the wind.

Maybe it was over.

So Peter took a few steps forward after sparing a glance behind him. Tony was okay. The blue alien-cyborg... thing... woman... was okay. She was okay, too. So they were all okay. They survived. They lived. They-

Then there was a spike of pain in the back of his skull. 

_Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no-_

Peter turned around, looking around desperately for comfort, for someone to help, for someone to lay down the fear pricking in his chest. He was disappearing, he was dying, he was fading away just as everyone else was. He hated to admit it but it hurt, it was painful, and it felt like he was being ripped apart and stitched back together again. The pain in the back of his head wouldn't stop. His spider-sense was repeating, it was screaming, it was telling him to get out of the way. It was telling him he was dying, he was hurt, and Peter really wished it would stop. That this would stop. 

"Mr. Stark?" Peter said, blinking away the tears pricking his eyes and ignoring how the scent of ashes (people, his friends, heroes) made his stomach roll. "I don't feel so good." 

The answer was quick, and Tony turned around in an instant. "You're alright."

_No, I'm not. I'm dying, I'm dying, please, help me help me help me help me-_

He took a step forward, feeling his legs being torn away. It was as if every molecule was dying and being torn apart and stitched back together and dying again and again and again, the cycle continues. 

"I don't- I don't know what's happening." 

Peter stumbled, feeling his legs dissolve in thin air as if they were never really there. He thought he was gone there, thought he had died just then. Instead of him falling to the dirt, disappearing right then and there, turning to ash and dying in front of a friend, Tony caught him, just like he always would, and Peter hugged him back like his life depended on it. His life _did_ depend on it because maybe this way Peter wouldn't die. He'd _live_. He was real, he was alive he was-

_Dying._

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go-" _I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die._  

He couldn't die. He couldn't. He had to stay alive for May and tell her dumb stories about his patrol. He had to stay alive for Ned and live through the extensive hours of those dumb Star Wars movies and play with legos even if he didn't really like it. He had to stay alive for Tony because Tony has done so much and Peter's returned so little and maybe, just maybe, he could return the favor for his hero. For his mentor, for his _friend._

_(and if Peter dared, his family.)_

There was too much to sense, too much to think and feel and see. He smelled the ashes and rusted metal and blood. So much blood. It was burning his nose, making his stomach churn. The lights were brighter than he had thought before, like a thousand stars glowing only a foot in front of his eyes. Everything burned his skin, every touch hurt, but he wasn't letting go. He wasn't pulling away. 

Tony put a hand on Peter's head as he dug his own face into Tony's shoulder. He cried, tears falling down his face quicker than Peter could manage to speak. His voice was rough, it was hoarse and it hurt any time he spoke but he did it anyway. He needed help, and if anyone could help Peter, if anyone could save Peter, if anyone could fix this, it was Tony. Tony always caught him. Tony always fixed him, so Tony could fix this. 

"Mr. Stark, please, I don't- Tony! Tony, please, please, I don't want to go!" 

Tony moved but Peter didn't let go. He couldn't- what if he disappeared? What if he died? He- he couldn't. He _couldn't die._ Not with May on Earth waiting for Peter to come home from his field trip. Not with Ned expecting Peter to come back perfectly okay. Not with Tony, right here, holding Peter close and hoping just the same that he'll be okay. Peter can't die. Not now. Especially not now, because he knows Tony can fix this. 

And if Tony couldn't fix this... if Tony couldn't save him... save all of them...

_...who could?_

Tony put his hand behind Peter's head and in a moment he was on the ground. 

_Molecule by molecule._

When he looked up at the sky as soon as he was set down his first thought was, had it always been this orange? It was beautiful, in a way. Different entirely from Earth, from home. It occurred to him that he was so, so far from home. May often said that no matter where they were as long as they shared the same sky they would always be together. 

Peter guessed that this time was one of the few times the saying wasn't true. 

His head lolled to the side, eyes open but only barely. Peter looked at Tony, the worry creasing on his face and the unsaid words in his eyes all too clear.

_if you die, I feel like that'd be on me_

Peter took a breath. "I'm sorry." 

A whisper, an apology, a guilty statement. It wasn't for himself, it wasn't for May, or Ned or the billions of people he failed. It's for Tony, for the man who caught him when he fell. He always said he would. 

And in the end, right now, Peter would say he had, right when it was most important. 

He looked at the sky again. The orange hues circling above him. There was a second of numb pain and then there was nothing.

Dust, an orange hue, and pain. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the cost of war was always someone considered before running into battle, but nobody thought a child was to die in the arms of his father begging not to leave in fear of losing all he had.


End file.
